


Throw in the  Trowel

by starsinursa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Universe, Dean wants into Cas' plants, First Kiss, Gardens & Gardening, Jealousy, Love Confessions, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Misunderstandings, Oblivious Dean, Pining, Sam Ships It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 04:02:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12004602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsinursa/pseuds/starsinursa
Summary: “What’s going on, Dean?”“Jesus, nothing’s going on. I just –" Can’t be in the same room with both of them right now? Feel physically ill every time he thinks about that 100-watt smile Cas had flashed at Sam, a smile that even Dean has only seen a handful of times? Can’t decide whether to be happy for his brother or strangle him?





	Throw in the  Trowel

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic in response to this funny prompt floating around tumblr: 
> 
> Sooo there's not really any vegetables in this story, but there's a garden. Kind of.

It’s a damn fine day, for all of about thirty minutes.

“You guys are planting tomatoes, right?” Dean calls, stretching out his legs on the rickety lawnchair he picked up at a garage sale in Mankato last week. It may be a death-trap waiting to happen, but for two crumpled $1 bills from his wallet, it was a steal. “I’ll make salsa from scratch.”

From where he’s kneeling in the dirt, Sam twists around to give him an unimpressed look. “You know the whole point of having a garden with fresh vegetables is to eat healthier, right? Not make salsa for greasy tortilla chips?”

Dean grins toothily at him. “Plant some bell peppers too. They’re great on pizza.”

Sam huffs. “If you’re so invested, you could actually help us, you know.”

Dean tips his sunglasses down onto his face and takes a pointed sip from his beer – the one he grabbed specifically so he could drink it while Sam and Cas spent the afternoon sweating and digging around in the dirt. Sam rolls his eyes and turns back to the garden.

It doesn’t look like much yet – just a big square of dirt, tilled with shallow lines. Sam and Cas are kneeling side-by-side at the edge, their backs to him, probably getting the knees of their jeans filthy, and Cas is actually wearing honest-to-god gardening gloves, big floppy things that reach all the way up his forearms and hide his dexterous hands. It makes him look like one of those suburban housewives on the covers of _Better Home and Garden_ , and Dean snickers into his beer.

The sun is warm on his cheeks below his sunglasses and his bare arms where he’s rolled up the sleeves of his t-shirt. He’ll probably have some new freckles to show for today, but it’s not hot enough to be miserable. There’s a warm breeze that pulls through occasionally and the occasional whine of an insect, and Dean feels almost at peace as he sips on his beer and watches them work.

They’re talking, heads bowed together over the garden. They’re too far away for Dean to hear, but the quiet murmur of voices from his two favorite people in the world is soothing, so he lets it wash over him without bothering to pick out the words. For a little while, everything is right in the world.

Then Cas turns his head just a little and grins – a full, teeth-flashing, nose-crinkling type of grin – and something in Dean’s chest stutters like a firework throwing off sparks, because those smiles from Cas are rare and they’re beautiful on him. At the same time, Dean suddenly feels like he’s been sucker-punched in the gut, because something is wrong. Cas is smiling at _Sam_ like that.

Now he’s not just watching – he’s actually _watching_.

The amused smile that Sam gives back, big enough that it pulls up at his cheeks and carves out his dimples. The easy way they crouch side by side, both leaning in as if gravitating towards each other. Cas’ careful hand gestures as he speaks, Sam never breaking his gaze as he nods with interest. And then, the clincher – Sam noticing a streak of dirt on Cas’ face and chuckling in amusement, reaching up to brush it off. The pads of Sam’s fingers on Cas’ skin.

Dean is up out of the lawnchair and heading back into the bunker before he’s even realized he’s moving. He thinks he might hear Cas call his name, but he doesn’t stop to check.

__________

Dean’s never been so torn in his life.

A hunter’s life is one of hard decisions, and his hasn’t been a cake-walk. He’s had to toe the line between right and wrong, learn how to navigate the gray areas in cases where things aren’t cut and dry, make the tough calls that no one else wants to make. But this? This feels like the hardest thing he’s ever done in his life.

On the one hand, there had always been…potential…between him and Cas. Something unspoken but definitely there, something full of possibility, like a live wire buried beneath the surface if he’d ever had the guts to grab it. Something that he’d always been too chickenshit to act on. Even with that being true, he can’t help but feel…betrayed, maybe? Spurned? Like a total fucking idiot? He doesn’t know. And shaken - like there was a wall he’d been leaning against, something he’d taken for granted because it was always there, but now it had vanished into thin air and left him reeling in surprise, trying to catch his feet.

On the other hand… it’s Sammy. And Cas. His brother and his best friend, the two people he loves most in the entire world, even if he’s not gonna say shit like that out-loud. He wants happiness for both of them. And if they just happen to find happiness in each other, well, that’s perfect, right? Two birds with one stone and all that jazz?

Yeah. Yeah, the second outlook, that’s a good one. He can be happy for them. Eventually. As long as he doesn’t ever have to talk to them about it or watch them together or even look at either of their faces right now.

He does pretty well avoiding them both for about four days, until Cas runs into him in the kitchen. It’s the middle of the damn night, there’s no reason Cas should be up, and Dean’s leaning against the counter finishing off some of Sam’s nasty Greek yogurt straight from the container, because he doesn't feel like cooking something, when Cas walks in. His face lights up when he sees Dean, sleepy eyes brightening, and Dean spares a moment to stomp down his guilt about avoiding Cas for the past few days.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says quietly, taking down a glass from a cupboard and moving towards the sink.

Dean swallows around a mouthful of bitter yogurt. “Hey, Cas.”

There’s silence for a few moments while Cas fills his glass with water and Dean idly scrapes his teeth over the bitter tang on his tongue.

“So what do you think will happen tomorrow night?” Cas asks suddenly, turning towards him and sipping at his water.

Dean’s mind scrambles furiously but comes up blank. “Tomorrow night?”

“Yes. What do you think Daenerys will do?”

“…oh, yeah.” Dean can’t believe he forgot. Actually, he can, since he’s been doing his utmost best to push both Sam and Cas out of his mind all week, as much as possible while actually living in the same bunker with them.

 _Game of Thrones_ is on tomorrow night and somehow they’d all fallen into a routine of watching the new episodes together, as some kind of unspoken tribute to Charlie - Dean stretched out on the couch and cheering every time the dragons came on, Cas sitting at the end of the couch with his feet tucked under him and eating popcorn with way too much salt and Dean’s feet digging into the side of his thigh, and Sam folded into an armchair and bemoaning the fact that there _still_ isn’t a new book, how’s he supposed to bitch about everything the show is getting wrong and blah blah blah?

Dean doesn’t think he can sit through that right now. Maybe soon, but not right now. “Sorry, Cas. I can’t tomorrow.”

Cas' eyebrows pinch together. “Why?”

Dean licks his lips uncomfortably, chasing away the last of the gross yogurt taste, and moves to toss the empty container in the trash. Cas doesn’t move as Dean gingerly steps around him, as if Cas is a wild animal and Dean’s trying not to draw attention to himself.

“Just – I’ve got a thing, tomorrow.”

“A thing?”

Dean flips on the faucet and rinses his spoon, trying his best for nonchalance. The fucking spoon ricochets water onto the front of his shirt. “Yeah. Just a thing. For a case. Gotta do some research, make a few calls.” He drops the spoon into the dish strainer and steps back. “You can, y’know. DVR it or whatever. I’ll catch up on it later.”

“We’ll wait and watch it with you,” Cas says slowly, squinting at him just a little.

“No, it’s fine, really. You and Sammy watch it, spend some time together.”

“Me and Sam?” Cas is looking more confused by the second, and Dean’s getting a little frustrated now, because apparently Cas can’t take a damn clue that Dean’s trying to be a nice guy and step out of their way.

“Yeah, Cas. You and Sam. Sam and you.”

Finally, after a stare that seems to last forever, Cas shrugs. “Okay. I’ll watch it with Sam.”

“Great,” Dean exhales in a rush, because he’s done talking about this and ready to get the hell out of this room. “Well, I’m beat, I’m gonna hit the hay.” He heads for the kitchen door. Automatically, he reaches out to pat Cas on the shoulder as he passes, but he aborts the movement just as quickly, jerking his hand back.

“…night, Cas.”

There’s a quiet, “Goodnight, Dean”, as he rounds the corner.

__________

Two days later, Sam tracks him down in the garage where he’s changing Baby’s oil. He’s flat on his back under the car when somebody kicks his boot and he jumps, swearing, almost smacking his forehead. When he slides out, Sam is smirking.

“Hey. So can you make a store run when you’re done with the oil?”

Dean grunts and sits up, snatching up an oil rag to wipe his hands. “Wasn’t plannin’ on it, but yeah, I guess. What do we need?”

Sam prattles off a list of ingredients, citing some basics like milk and bread and some of the more unusual items, like cans of spray paint and giant rolls of first-aid gauze. They lead an interesting life.

When Sam mentions some tools for the garden, Dean must make a face, because Sam stops and looks at him.

“What?”

Dean blusters. “What, what?”

“I don’t know, you just – made a face.” Sam looks thoughtful. Never a good thing. “Are you okay?” he asks suddenly, and Dean was right, it’s never a good thing. “You’ve been kind of weird the past few days.”

“What? No, I haven’t.”

“You kind of have,” Sam says. “I’ve barely seen you this week, you’re always in your room and doing other stuff,” he says, gesturing towards the car, “and you skipped _Game of Thrones_ night.”

Dean huffs. “A guy can’t have other shit to do? I told you guys to just record it.”

“What’s going on, Dean?”

“Jesus, nothing’s going on. I just –“ Can’t be in the same room with both of them right now? Feel physically ill every time he thinks about that 100-watt smile Cas had flashed at Sam, a smile that even Dean has only seen a handful of times? Can’t decide whether to be happy for his brother or strangle him?

Sam is still staring at him, waiting for the answer, and fuck it, he might as well get it out in the open so Sam will know that Dean knows. Otherwise Sam is gonna be hounding at his heels until he cracks. 

“- I just figured you guys would want to spend more time alone together, that’s all.”

Sam gives him a weird look. “Why?”

He sighs explosively, frustrated, and almost runs an oily hand back through his hair before he catches himself. “What the fuck do you mean, why? Because I’m trying to be a good brother, you asshole. Letting Cas and you do the whole quality-time thing without always having a third wheel around cramping your style.” As he talks, he pictures it - Sam and Cas sitting close on the couch, sides pressed together - and the thought makes him feel nauseous. “Capiche?”

Sam, if possible, looks even more confused. “What? Third wheel? And why would we want to – “ The confusion flickers, changes to mild horror. “- oh, god. You don’t seriously think –“

Sam starts laughing, and Dean glares up at him. He lets Sam laugh it out, only to have Sam finally pause for a moment, take one look back down at Dean’s face, and burst out laughing again. Dean scowls and aims a kick at Sam’s leg from where he’s still sitting on the ground, but Sam dodges it.

“What the hell is so funny?” he snaps.

Sam rubs the heel of a hand into his eye, shaking his head. “You…are such a moron.”

“Hey!”

Still shaking his head, Sam pinches the bridge of his nose and snorts, another laugh bubbling up. Without another word, Sam turns on his heel and marches away.

“Hey, bitch!” Dean calls after him. “What the hell was so funny! Where are you going?”

“To find Cas!” Sam yells back. The door to the bunker slams, echoing in the empty garage.

Dean doesn’t feel pleased at all that he seems to have achieved his goal.

__________

They _both_ find him this time, two hours later. He’s had time to shower and scrub the oil from his skin, and he’s in the process of pulling on a jacket for the store run when there’s a loud knock on his door. Before he can answer, it’s pushed open and Sam is tromping inside with his giant feet, followed more sedately by Cas, who looks just as perplexed as Dean.

“Uh, sure, come on in,” Dean says, looking pointedly between Sam and the open door.

Sam ignores him, folding his arms. “Tell Cas what you told me earlier.”

“Uh. What?”

“Tell Cas what you told me in the garage,” Sam repeats. “About why you skipped watching _Game of Thrones_ the other night.”

Dean has no friggin’ idea what he’s done lately to piss off his brother, but apparently Sam is going to be a dick about this and rub salt in the wound. Fine. He squares his shoulders and clenches his jaw, because if Sam’s not going to be an adult about it, that only leaves him. Unfortunately.

“I was trying to let you two have some alone time together,” he mutters. Every word out of his mouth tastes sour.

Cas gives Dean a confused look, almost an exact replica of the one Sam gave him in the garage earlier. “Why?”

“I think,” Sam says before Dean can find the words, “that Dean thinks you and I are together, Cas. Like, _together_ together.”

Cas huffs, a small, disbelieving sound, and turns a skeptical look on Sam. When Sam stares back, unblinking and serious, Cas’ expression morphs into something more incredulous. He swings back to Dean.

“Dean, is that what you think?”

“Um.” Dean is so confused right now, and annoyed, and he really wants to just get out of this bunker and settle in behind Baby’s wheel where he can have a measure of peace. “Yeah?”

Cas sighs loudly - an exasperated, endearingly human reaction. If Dean didn’t feel so shitty, it would have made him smile.

“You’re an idiot,” Cas tells him.

“Hey!”

Sam’s face splits into a grin. “That’s exactly what I told him!”

Screw this, Dean’s changed his mind. He's not gonna be cool with Sam and Cas dating if they’re going to gang up on him, he officially revokes his blessing. He grits his teeth and heads for the door, but Cas steps into his path.

“Dean.” Cas’ eyes are heavy on him, it feels like a physical weight is settling on his chest. “Sam and I aren’t together.”

Dean scoffs. “Yeah, okay. I know what I saw, Cas. The touching, and the smiling, and the whole garden thing together - don't lie to me, it’s dead obvious you care about each other -”

“That’s true, we do,” Cas confirms. “I love Sam.”

Even though it's not a surprise, the bottom drops out of Dean’s stomach. He thought he'd been prepared to hear something like this, but he was wrong. Those words leaving Cas’ lips are like a slap to the face. They’re echoing in his head so loudly that he almost doesn’t hear Cas add, “Like a brother.”

Dean jerks his head up. “What?”

Cas stares at him and repeats, slowly, “I love Sam like a brother.”

A little of the weight on Dean’s chest eases, just enough to make it easier to breathe. “Oh.” He shifts his weight uncomfortably.

Of course. He’d misinterpreted everything, he’d gotten carried away, of course Cas thinks of them like his brothers – the guy’s been ostracized by the other angels and the only family he’s ever known, and they’ve all been through so much shit together and looked out for each other, they’re family, that makes sense –

Cas must have an inkling about the direction of his thoughts - either that or he still has the ability to read minds occasionally - because he cuts in sharply, “Not you, Dean.” Castiel clears his throat, looking suddenly sheepish, and tries again more quietly. “I don’t think of you as my brother.”

Dean doesn’t even have time to wonder what the hell that means or be hurt by the implication, because Cas is suddenly rambling, talking a mile a minute in a low, earnest voice.

“I know you’ve called me your brother and referred to us as family, and while I appreciate the sentiment, those feelings have never been entirely….accurate…for me. I feel – so much more. For you. There’s so much more I want, but I didn’t want to say anything –“

His mind is reeling, and he tries to clamp down on the hope bubbling in his chest. He can’t make assumptions, he can’t keep taking things out of context, just look at how he fucked up this past week. He needs something more than this, something impossible to argue against, something he can’t explain away or overthink or –

Cas, bless him, seems to know exactly what he needs, because before Dean can even organize his thoughts enough to find a safe, non-incriminating response, Cas steps forward, cups Dean’s face in his hands, and kisses him.

It’s a soft kiss, just a gentle pressure of lips, and Cas doesn’t try to take it further. His broad palms are warm against Dean’s cheeks, fingers cupping over his ears, and Dean makes a sound like he’s been shot. Immediately Cas starts to pull away, but Dean snatches his hands and holds them in place against his face, fingers curling around Cas’ wrists. He chases after Cas’ lips and finds them, kissing him back. Now Cas is the one making surprised noises against his mouth, and Dean soaks it up like a drowning man.

Cas pulls back with a soft breath, but doesn’t let go of Dean’s face. His thumbs rub soothing lines back and forth across Dean’s cheekbones. Dean basks for a moment - until, with a jolt, he remembers Sammy and jerks his head to look, but Sam is gone. Dean’s bedroom door is shut, and the room is empty except for him and Cas.

“Just to be completely clear,” Cas says, urging Dean’s attention back, “my feelings for you are not platonic or familial. My feelings for you are decidedly romantic, and have been for a long time. I lo-“

“I got it, Cas!” Dean interrupts, laughing weakly. He hopes it doesn’t sound as hysterical as it feels, but his nerves are overwhelmed today, he doesn’t think he can handle any more confessions just yet. At least not out-loud.

Cas gives him a flat look, but there’s a smirk quirking the corners of his mouth. “I just wanted to make sure there was no more confusion. After all, you did think that Sam and I were dating.”

Dean licks his lips and tries not to feel like too much of a dumbass. “Yeah, but I think I’ve got it now.”

“Are you sure?” Cas asks. There's a decidedly teasing quality to the question.

“Yes. And I -” Nope, it’s too much today, he can’t do it yet. But he can compromise. “- me too, Cas. To all of it.”

Cas’ answering smile is like the sun breaking through the clouds.


End file.
